Playing The Angel
by lanakael
Summary: Post season 3. Kimber suffers, Christan suffers. The Carver wins.
1. Chapter 1

ANGEL

Flashing knives, silver terror glinting on silver surfaces. Needles. Pain. Pain and heat, too much of both. Hardness forcing its way into her orifaces, bruising and brutal. And behind it all, painted black eyes, painted black on glossy, ceramic, painted white.

_Beauty is a curse on the world. I will set you free._

Screams, screams from everywhere. Bitter, mocking. And no release from the pain. One final scream, give us a kiss, darling.

Kimber woke up, her screams making her throat ragged, making her ears ring with remembered pain. A frenzied glance around the bedroom of the tiny apartment she was renting..it was empty. It was always empty. But she would never be alone again. He saw to that.

Kimber Henry shrank back into her covers a moment, trembling. Then she sighed heavilly and got up. This was no way to live. But what could she do?


	2. So Goes The Bride

"Do you take this woman to be your wife?"

The minister's voice was rich, as rich as the decorations in the church. Christian Troy beamed at the minister before answering, then looked at the assembled guests. Everyone was there: Sean, at his side as Sean always was. Wow, his mom showed up! And she smiling as she bent to whisper to the lady next to her, "That's my son," voice ringing with quiet pride. Julia, sitting in between one of their former patients--what was her name--and Gina. Even the face of his ex and thorn in his side gave him reason to smile...she beamed at him, mouthed "Congrats, as..," remembered she was in a church, then amended, "butthole" and winked. The smile on her face, though, was filled with happiness. For him. And Kimber. Who would've thought?

Even Matt had returned, dressed properly, thank God. Even the hateful earring he'd taken to wearing was missing; his tie was done properly. Nothing could be done about the boy's buzzed hair, but that was a minor annoyance, it was enough that he'd returned. Christian got the second gift of the day when Matt mouthed "I love you, Dad," and gave a thumbs-up from the pew behind Julia and Gina. Christian smiled happily, then gradually noticed that his continued silence was starting to become a cause for concern.

"Do you take this woman to be your wife?" the minister intoned again, a hint of annoyance lacing his words. Before Christian could reply in the affirmative, however, another voice, feminine, broke in.

"Yes, Christian, _do_ you take me? For better, for worse? Do you take me like THIS?" The voice rose in pitch; astonished, Christian glanced at his bride.

The sight made his heart drop.

Kimber was glaring at him; her dress was soaked with blood. Her once-perfect face was streaked with it, angry red slashes curving from the corner of her mouth like a jester's grimace. But that wasn't even the worst part.

She was holding something in her hands, holding it out to him like a present.

"I got you a gift," Kimber slurred. In her hands were her implants, the implants he himself had given her. "Do you like them now? I trusted you, Christian, and this is what you brought me to!" She hurled the bloody globes at him; they struck the front of his suit, then plopped to the church floor with a wet, sickening _thump_. Her face and her stomach started to puff out, swelling with chicken fat that ran like obscene tears down her blood-streaked face. "Save me, Christian," she moaned, reaching out for him. He took a shocked step back, shaking his head in denial as she reached for him. His progress was stopped short as he bumped into something behind him; a solid body. Hands reached around to grab him as something hard poked at the seat of his pants. One of the hands clutching at him held a buzzing saw, and a hated voice sounded in his ear.

_Tell me what you don't like about yourself, Christian_, the voice droned into his ear. _Tell me, and let me set you free._

The assembly in the church stood and started to clap; Kimber turned her ruined face upward and howled in pain. The thing poking at his rear suddenly entered him with shocking, painful force and Christian, frozen to the spot, screamed.

_Save me, Christian. Save me from myself._

Christian gasped as he bolted upright from his bed, tangling in his sweat-soaked sheets and almost braining himself on his bedside table as he fell out of the bed. Landing painfully, he lay on the floor a few moments, still caught up in the grip of the nightmare. Gradually though, the sounds of the night outside reached his fevered brain and the normal world rushed in around him.

But nothing would ever be normal for him; _normal_ would never be his again. And something was terribly wrong, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

_Save me, Christian. Save me from myself._

"Kimber," he moaned, as he reached up and fumbled on the nightstand for his phone.

He had to make sure she was okay. If that even exisisted anymore. She wouldn't take his call, he knew, but he still had to try. He put the phone to his ear and waited as it rang. And rang. And rang...


	3. The Banshee's Release

Playing The Angel, part 3

_Beauty is a curse on the world._

Kimber stood on the ledge outside her apartment, back glued to the window as she watched the city unfold beneath her feet. A warm breeze caressed her body like a lover's hand, mocking the chill that raced through her. Cold, it was always cold inside and the chill was killing her. Freezing everything she recognized, covering it in a frost that was unrecognizable. She dimly heard the phone shrilling inside; the click of the answering machine as it turned on, playing the voice she least wanted to hear.

"Kimber, are you there? It's me, Christian. I know you don't want to talk to me, but I just had to make sure you're okay. Kimber? Kimber! Please, pick up!" This was the fourth, perhaps the fifth time he'd called in the last few minutes, she wasn't sure how many times now but each message was the same. It was only his voice that changed with each call, getting more insistant, more worried. More frightened. That scared her too.

_I didn't know Christian even _knew _what fear was. That's a higher emotion; he doesn't know about such things. _Kimber sighed, then again, the warm breeze still playing with her white nighty, playing with her white, scarred skin. The sound of Christian's voice died away as another took its place. Low, crooning, giving her promises and assurances where there were none. She strove to listen.

_I can set you free, my angel, _the voice chanted inside her head, outside her head; all around her, it seemed. _Christian screwed you up, yet again, returning to you the falsehoods I took from you. He lied to you, he lied. But I never did, did I? I set you free once, and I can do so again. Come to me, my angel, as I am your angel. Let me set you free from the restraints and constrictions society has placed on you, on _us_. I can set you free, I can set you free..._

Kimber lifted her face to the moon, staring coldly down at her. She was tired of the pain, tired of the bullshit, the lies. The moon had nothing special to tell her, but _he_ did. He always did. He told her that Christian had made of her an animal, perhaps he was right. She laughed at that thought, her, once a perfect 10, now reduced to nothing more than a grizly animal. That was how she felt. The thought for some reason appealed to her and she raised her face higher, letting out a blood-curdling howl. If animal she was, then perhaps she would act like one. She howled again, raising her hands to the night sky.

Lights clicked on in the windows surrounding her; a few shouts from other apartments, howling back for her to shut the _fuck_ up, people had to work in the morning! She laughed then, a sound she'd not heard from herself in so long, it seemed. The laughter didn't sound much different from her howling, but she relished the sound anyway and lifted her voice higher in defiance of the voices snarling at her. Another window opened now--a face peered out, an angry face that turned to concern, then terror. A scream. Kimber screamed back, inviting the voice to lift and join with hers in shared release. Another yell--"She's gonna _jump_!"--panicked voices coming at her in a jumble. The exhultation she'd felt only moments ago faded as fury took its place. How dare they look at her like this, how _dare_ they? Look at her like she was a monster, a circus freak up here for their amusement? She screamed again, a banshee's wail full of rage and grief for what had been done to her, what had been done to them all. All in the name of blind perfection.

_Beauty is a curse on the world._


	4. The Final Push

Christian sped through the Miami streets, so close yet so damn far away! The car swerved as he fumbled with his cell phone for the umpteenth time. He'd called everyone; Liz, Julia, Sean. Hell, he'd have called Bobbolit had he thought that would've helped. Begged, pleaded for them to come, to help him face the demon he couldn't face alone.

And yet he was alone. He'd always be alone, and he knew it.

How could he have changed things? He should've been satisfied with the girl he'd first met. He remembered the mean-spirited comments he'd made to her their first night, saying she was only an 8. She was a 10 even then and he knew it. Hell, she'd known it! But full of ego and wanting not only to score, but to drum up business, he'd done his usual song-and-dance, baited the hook as usual. And she'd bitten.

To the downfall of them both.

Where would she be now, where would they _both_ be, had he left her alone? She'd be safe, that much was for sure. But him? Would he have known about love then? About acceptance, commitment? Would he still have found something larger than himself, something beautiful, pure? _Bullshit, Christian_, his mind sneered at him. _What you and Kimber had was _never _pure, and we both know who's fault that is. You ruined her, you killed her. She gave you all she had, even when you dragged her through the depths of hell. And still you asked for more. And she still gave. And here you are, here you both are. Give the man a medal!_

"NO!" Christian yelled. He banged the steering wheel as the car sped down another street; tears tracked scalding hot down his cheeks. "I loved her! I gave her all I could, this isn't my fault!"

_No? _the hateful voice continued in his head. _What did you give her, exactly? You drove her to Bobbolit. You drove her to a coke habit. You drove her to porn. And you gave her to a madman in the process. She did it all for _YOU_, you bastard, and you gave her a new nose and new boobs and a reason to keep searching for perfection in the mistaken belief that in perfection, she'd find your love. You gave her ME!_

There he was, in the middle of the road, just a few blocks away from her apartment. Christian screeched until his throat was raw, peering at the bastard through bleary eyes as he floored the gas pedal. He was going to save Kimber this time! And he was going to make her see that she was still his baby, his love, and they were going to start over, no matter what she did or didn't look like. For the first time in his life, Christian Troy saw beyond the fake that he dealt in each day. All he saw was his Kimber. And he was going to save her, he would!

Closer now, he was almost there...Quintin was wearing that ceramic mask again, but Christian could hear the mocking laughter. He almost stepped through the floorboard trying to give the car speed, determined to run the bastard down before he got inside Kimber's apartment, before he took away the last little bit of the light in Christian's world. A brief flash of white as the mask loomed closer, and contact...

And the world exploded as Quintin laughed; the sound of broken glass.

Christian had time to see the lamp post he hit in a flash of metal light, then the world caved in on him with shards of glass and an explosion of pain. He felt nothing though, the anger and need to get to Kimber dulled everything else. He had no clue how he clawed his way from the car, but he did, ignoring the searing agony in his chest and shoulder from the impact and the glass imbedded in his skin. He ignored the shocked looks and screams of the people outside who'd witnessed the crash. Only one thing mattered. He vaguely heard something about "jump" just as he crumpled to the ground, the pain momentarily overcoming the energy coursing through him; he looked up on instinct as one scream cut through the others.

That's when he saw her.

She was in a white nightgown, streaked with crimson. Even from his spot on the ground he could see that she'd been clawing at her face and chest. He could see that her nails were filthy and caked with her own blood, and it ran in thin streamers down her cheeks, across her restored breasts. Her face was turned up, she didn't see him as she screamed to the sky. A crazy thought came to him then, dreamlike. She looked like a sacrifice to the gods, and even streaked and crazed as she was, he'd never seen anything lovlier. The gods wouldn't have her tonight. Or any other. She was his!

He pushed to his feet with a burst of energy that amazed even him. He shoved off the well-meaning hands trying to help him up and ran to the apartment building. The glass door barred his way, but he didn't even give it a thought as he threw himself at it with brute strength. It shuddered once with the impact and Christian was thrown back. He screamed in rage and threw himself at the door again, mind not remembering that he needed to pull the door open. He kicked and clawed and punched at the door, ignoring the people inside who backed away from his savagry, ignored the shouts of the people outside who screamed and questioned and yelled for the police, ignored the sounds of the sirens blaring with gaining sound in the background. One final thrust and the glass gave, searing more pain into his battered skin, carving more lines of agony into his face and hands and arms and legs. He ignored the sickening lurch in his stomach as his body protested the abuse and threatened to drop him. None of it mattered. All that mattered was his angel, poised to turn herself into a sacrificial lamb.

The stairs gave way before him and he lept them three at a time. He was going to save her.


	5. Ritual Sacrifice

Her blood was boiling. And there was something going on down below. Kimber didn't care.

_He_ was whispering to her again, telling her to ignore the voices below her. Those voices held lies; only he could give her the truth.

_I'm your only friend, Kimber. Only I can set you free, my angel. Come to me, come to me._

"What do you want me to do?" she shrieked to the sky. "I gave you everything! I've got nothing else to give!"

_Not true, my angel. You can be my greatest work of art. Just this final thing I ask of you. Dance with me angel. Give yourself over to me._

"I'm afraid," she whimpered.

_Don't be afraid of me, love. Fear is for minor players, those of no consequence. You are greater than that. Give yourself to me and be immortal. Let me give you what Christian never could. Let me set you free._

She cringed. How seductive that voice was now! How silly she was to have been afraid of him before. How silly a girl she was before, letting porn and Christian and pop culture dictate her life, her thoughts, her body. She'd given them everything she'd held dear, and they took from her daily and daily demanded more.

Greedy bastards. She had nothing left to give.

_But you do, my love, and it's mine. Mine and mine alone. Give me this one last thing, and peace can be yours. Forever._

_Come to me._

Kimber listened to what he had to say, then she nodded. How sweet it would be to have peace at last! To be set free from the pain and misery that had been her life from the moment she'd laid eyes on the handsome doctor whose mouth spouted only lies. She opened her arms and prepared to give her final gift.

And that's when the door behind her blew to bits.


	6. Playing The Angel

Christian reached Kimber's apartment door, not even bothering to knock. He knew that would be useless. So he used his spent body again as a battering ram, throwing himself at the door in blind fury. As downstairs, the door didn't budge on the first try. Cursing, sweating, Christian lifted his leg and kicked with all his might. The door gave but the chain lock prevented it from swinging open. Sobbing with frustration, he kicked a final time and the door and chain caved, spilling him into the apartment.

The girl in his sights didn't turn to face him, only stood at the ledge, hands raised to the night sky.

"_KIMBER!_" he howled, rushing to her. She finally turned, but only to ward him off.

"Stay put, Christian," she said quietly. The quiet insensity of her voice stopped him cold. He looked at her, bloody and shaking, but her face was the serene peace of the insane. And of those who know that the end is at hand.

"Kimber, listen to me," Christian panted. He ached--God, how he ached!--but he wouldn't give in to it. Not now, not yet. Not until he could get her off that damn ledge. He stayed where he was, opening his arms to show her that he wouldn't do anything rash, but he kept talking.

"Listen to me, are you listening?" he waited for her nod, then continued. "Kimber, do you remember the night we first met, when I told you you were an 8?" Another pause; another nod. "I was lying to you then. You were a 10 and we both knew it. You were a 10 then, and you're a 10 now. And I love you, I've loved you for so long that I don't even know when it began. All I know is that I can't live without you. Nothing, _nothing_ is so bad, so wrong in our lives that we can't face it together. And it'll be together, I promise you that. Kimber, look at me, please?"

She'd turned away again, gone back to staring at the sky. Who knew the thoughts that were swirling in her head? He continued to plead when she said nothing.

"Kimber, baby, please...you're my girl, my golden girl. Whatever you want, whatever you need, just tell me! I'll give up my practice, give up being a plastic surgeon. I can do work, _real _work, fixing people who are hurt, helping them recover from accidents, bad surgery, whatever's made them miserable. I can truly help people this time! But I can't do it without you, I can't. Just tell me that you'll come down from there, come down now and come with me. We'll make a life together, just the two of us if that's what you want. We'll make it right this time, true love with no illusions of what perfect should _look _like. Say you'll come and be with me Kimber."

_Don't listen to him. He lies. What more can he offer you that he hasn't already destroyed you with? What more can he give you that I can't make better?_

"Kimber, please! We'll have the life you always wanted, a life free from the plastic I deal in every day. We can have a family, a real family, anything you want! Just come to me."

_He lies, he lies. Family? He'll saddle you with unwanted brats then leave you both while he goes back to his whoring, picking pretty young girls to inject with more of society's poison. He'll never give up his practice, never change. It's like a drug in his veins. Do you really think you're so special that he'll devote his time to just you when the whole world can be his playground?_

Kimber moaned, tearing at her hair, clamping her hands over her ears to block out the flow of voices ripping at her. Christian's heart ached with fear for her but he still didn't move. _Come back to me baby_, he thought. He opened his mouth to speak again, when Kimber turned, addressing him for the first time.

"Tell me what you don't like about yourself?" Christian started, what was she asking? Kimber's eyes lost their frenzied sparkle and went dull, dead. For some reason that scared Christian more than anything else tonight. His knees threatened to buckle; he held himself together with a supreme effort of will. Kimber didn't seem to appreciate the effort, though.

"Tell me what you don't like about yourself, you selfish fuck!" she roared at him and he cringed. Forty years of memories came back to him then and he couldn't help it, tears ran down his face again. He couldn't trust himself to speak, could only shake his head as he cried for her, for himself, for the chain of events that had brought them both to this tragic point.

"Kimber, please," he moaned, reaching out to her. Kimber just sneered at him and turned back to face the street.

"Don't cry, you bastard," she sneered. "I don't have enough tears for what you did to me, for what you allowed to have done to me. I wish..." her voice trailed off and she tilted her head again, first looking down and regarding the street. Christian could hear the police cars plainly now and a spark of hope flared in his chest. Police meant help; perhaps Sean and Julia were right behind him. He'd have people better equipped than himself to bring Kimber in, to help him get her someplace safe and work on her body, then help him love her back into a better state of mind. His hopes fell though, when she turned to consider the sky again, as if listening to another voice. And she was.

_It's time, beloved. The police are on their way. Do you really think they'll let you go now? They'll push and prod until they've made you over into their own image again, until you once more wear the chains of society and all its ills. Only I can give you release, my angel. Come, dance with me._

Kimber nodded, then half-turned to face Christian again. "It's time," she said. "Remember that I loved you. And pray that when judgement day finally comes for you, if there's a God, He sees you with eyes like mine." She turned back to the street.

"_KIMBER!_" Christian didn't know how he knew, but he knew that this was it. No more talking, no more time. He surged forward with only one thought: to stop her from killing herself. And him, in the process. He knew just as surely though, that he would be too late.

As for Kimber, she no longer heard Christian's voice. He ceased to exist for her. Only _He_ mattered, and she could see him clearly now. Those painted black eyes on that painted white face. Mardi Gras comic/scary. Black gloved hands reaching for her. Black on black in the night sky. The stars above set the stage for them. The sounds below were merely music to announce their final dance. He opened his arms to her and she felt the smile behind the mask.

_It's time, my love. Come to me, let me play the angel tonight. Dance with me. Only I can set you free._

"Beauty is a curse on the world," Kimber whispered.

And she stepped into the arms of her Angel.


End file.
